The New DADA: Professor Rineman
by swordspell
Summary: Well, as we all know, Hogwarts needs a new DADA teacher and Dumbledor seems to have found just the right person in the narrowest time interval. who is he, and what happens?
1. The Annoyance of Getting Older

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling is a genius in her own right. Someone who can unite the old, young and middle-aged to love a singular thing such as Harry Potter and his magical world deserve all credit that can possibly be given. Most of the characters mentioned in this fan fiction as well as most of the places are hers. 

In the following chapter only the place _Pickleton Alley_, lung soothers _Lung-a-laytors_, the pub _Cavalcade Cavern Cave_ (CCC) and the character _Professor Reinman_ can I claim to be my own.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**The New DADA: Professor Rineman**

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**Taste of CH 1:** Hogwarts needs a new DADA professor and Headmaster Dumbledore must find someone to take the position. Also Dumbledore discovers something that is truly worrying……….. he is getting older…….

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

CHAPTER 1: The Annoyance of Getting Older

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Dumbledore sighed as hard as he could. For some reason his lungs seemed a bit clogged up this morning. He looked out his tower window and what did he see? An owl. That's right, just another darn owl. It's amazing where people like himself can find inspiration.

Because that scrawny little owl, who had randomly flown up to Dumbledore's window and was randomly identified as Pig, inspired Dumbledore to get out of his extremely large purple bed, take off his extremely woolly socks and actually do something about those lungs of his. He was going to now have to go out to buy those Lung-a-laytors to soothe his lungs. 

And while he was at it he might as well shop for a new DADA professor. Hogwarts was running extremely low on the stock of could-be and would-be DADA professors. Only one place to find those weirdos that he'd scraped up for the last few years. There was a lot more where they came from. Barring of course the wonderful Professor Remus Lupin who was a great catch. Too bad he had to turn out to be a werewolf though.

And why not stock up on his store of Lemon Drops……… oooh, he might get a few of those gummy-bear things while he was at it too…….. 

But first, couldn't go to Pickleton Alley without some sort of disguise. He had to look his best for London as well as avoid that nosey, stomach churning Cornelius Fudge.

Just as well he was the master of Transfiguration……….

And with a pompous twirl of his right index finger there appeared a graceful 30-something year-old man with a bushy infestation of hair covering his whole face. Would have been mistaken for Hagrid if he made himself grow a little taller. Thankfully where he was going no one knew Hagrid.

Seemingly satisfied with the image before his mirror, with a quick flick of his left pinkie, he disappeared.

********

Only to appear an hour later in the Cavalcade Cavern Cave, or the CCC.

"Bats and bears!" He cursed under his breath. "I've got to do something about this taking-a-long time business. I have to figure out a way to stop growing old!"

Only to realise he'd walked out wearing his pyjamas. Being old affected his mind terribly. So he decided to 'borrow' the large shaggy cloak pegged up near the entrance to the CCC before sidling out into the crisp white snow.

********

Professor Snape's appeal to become the next DADA professor materialised on Dumbledore's desk a minute too late. If it had come a minute earlier he would have finally achieved what he wanted. Poor professor, he always got the timing wrong.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**Author's Note:** Please review because I'm just warming up my typing fingers and am trying to do something different. Instead of packing my story with hardcore emotion (which I love) I'm trying to write one that is different. Maybe I might make the story be told from the different points of views of people at Hogwarts. I'll make some of them emotionally charged and some, as you will have read above, a little loony and well, weird. All constructive criticisms or (for a change) praise (yeay) is appreciated as well as mistakes that you may have found. This has been spell checked so should be okay. Suggestions are also welcomed.


	2. A Deal Is Struck

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling is a genius in her own right. Someone who can unite the old, young and middle-aged to love a singular thing such as Harry Potter and his magical world deserve all credit that can possibly be given. Most of the characters mentioned in this fan fiction as well as most of the places are hers. 

In the following chapter only the place _Pickleton Alley_, lung soothers_ Lung-a-laytors_, _Rineman's Apothecary_, _Muggle-to-Wizard dealers _and the character _Professor Rineman_ can I claim to be my own.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**The New DADA: Professor Rineman**

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**Taste of CH 2:** Dumbledore find's his beloved Lung-a-laytors in a new flavour much to his agreement. He also gets himself a new teacher………….

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

CHAPTER 2: A Deal Is Struck

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

His toes were quaking independently in his shoes. That's how cold it was. But Dumbledore, bless that old man's feet, was as stubborn as an ox and as proud as a rooster. Determined to buy those Lung-a-laytors before he froze completely, Dumbledore burst through the door of Rineman's Apothecary. 

"Ah Dumbledore you old fool! I told you not to walk in with that damn disguise. You'll scare off all my customers!"

Dumbledore looked around. Funny that. He couldn't see any customers………

Rineman caught his searching eyes. Thinking quickly he said:

"See! You scared them off! Arrrggh……"

Dumbledore's mind was getting quite slow so he really didn't realise the slight trick Rineman had played on him before his attention got snapped up.

"So, what brings you so far from the trapping's of that school you run, eh?" Rineman asked as he piled fresh slug-guts on top of last week's. 

"Ah, these aching lungs of mine. Say, you wouldn't have those mint flavoured Lung-a-laytors of your's would you?"

"I've run out of the mints," he replied even though there was a crate of them in his cellar, " but I've got these new fire whisky ones you might like."

"If you say so, if you say so."

Rineman crouched behind the counter to find the product Dumbledore had asked him to get. He hated Dumbledore. It was he that had spoilt his whole life when Lord He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was banished by the horrible little Potter. Dumbledore had made sure that Rineman could never ever become a teacher simply by refusing him the right to teach at Hogwarts. Hogwarts was the only Wizarding School (as far as he knew) in England or Scotland and you needed to know French to teach at Beuxbatons (which he didn't) and Durmstrang was just far too cold! 

He was too lazy to ship himself, or shall we say fly, off to another part of the world. Far too tedious. And he'd always had a fear of heights.

As his clawed fingers clutched the bottle of amber liquid, Dumbledore said something that was very surprising.

"Say ol' chap, have you ever thought of teachin'?"

"Whoa?"

"Teachin'. T-E-A-C-H-I-N-G. Teachin'?"

Rineman snarled, why that old bandicoot!

"Yeah Dumbledore, of course I have. You know that I always wanted to be a teacher."

"Ah-ha," Dumbledore wheezed. He placed a sickle on the counter and swallowed a mouthful of the liquid. He swirled it around slowly in his mouth, savouring the old taste of fire whisky on the new flavoured Lung-a-laytor. 

_WIRKHG!_

"Ah, that's much better, much better. Good work son. As I was saying, I need a DADA teacher very very soon before term starts on September the 1st." Dumbledore took another mouthful.

"That's only a week away."

Dumbledore growled taking another mouthful.

"I know that knucklehead!" For some reason Dumbledore felt very violent and drunk. It must have had something to do the fire whisky. "That's why I'm offering it to you. You think that if I had more time I wouldn't have found someone else?"

Dumbledore glared meaningfully and another gulp of Lung-a-laytor disappeared.

Rineman was taken aback.

This was his chance.

His one true chance.

But wait a minute. Hold it right there. What was going on? This was Dumbledore. He would have more likely expected this from Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge rather than Dumbledore.

Something was not right.

Very fishy.

"Alright!" Rineman snapped. "What do you want?"

"Nothin' nothin'. Jus' for you ta say yah," Dumbledore hiccuped but Rineman wouldn't let in. Almost guiltily Dumbledore took a smaller sip from the almost empty bottle. 

Rineman stared at Dumbledore. Dumbledore stared back. Reluctantly Dumbledore lowered his eyes and seemingly sobered up.

"I'd like that crate of mint Lung-a-laytors that you have in your cellar," Rineman almost dropped the angry mask he wore from shock, "and I wouldn't mid a crate of these fire whisky ones either."

Rineman couldn't believe his luck! He could become a teacher only for the 20 galleons that it cost to make the two crates of Lung-a-laytors. But his oh so happy mood came to a crashing thunderous ruin.

"Oh, if you don't mind chappie, son, I'd love to have the dozen crates of Lemon Drops that you received yesterday."

Rineman sighed. He'd known it could have meant no good. All in all now he was 50 galleons in dept to those shotty Muggle-to-Wizard dealers. 

But if it meant being able to do what he loved, he could afford it. 

********

A few hours later, Professors Dumbledore and Rineman arrived in Hogwarts, laden with crates of sweets and medicine. 

When showed his rooms, Rineman scowled deeply and fell on to his bed. He smelt dreadful, he had to admit, and was far too depressed at only getting 500 galleons for his shop and all it's wares. Actually, it was only 450 as he had sold it to the Muggle-to-Wizard dealers who had deducted 50 for the Lemon Drops.

And with that final raging thought Rineman fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**Author's Note:** So, how was that? Did you like it or was it a push over? There's only one way to let me know. REVIEW! All constructive criticisms or (for a change) praise (yeay) is appreciated as well as mistakes that you may have found. This has been spell checked so should be okay. Suggestions are also welcomed.

Thanks to anyone who did review. Your thoughts have been read and taken into account.


	3. Strange Happenings At Malfoy Manor

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling is a genius in her own right. Someone who can unite the old, young and middle-aged to love a singular thing such as Harry Potter and his magical world deserve all credit that can possibly be given. Most of the characters mentioned in this fan fiction as well as most of the places are hers. 

In the following chapter only the house-elf _Grubbylocks_, and characters _Emerald_, _Odilion_, _Sage_ and _Articulus Malfoy_ and _Captain Cumbersmith_ can I claim to be my own. Perhaps also the room too…

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**The New DADA: Professor Rineman**

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**Taste of CH 3:** Draco is stuck, as usual, in his manor because his father (grumble, grumble, grumble) has his reasons. But something comes up that entertains and bewilders him at the same time. What is going on?

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

CHAPTER 3: Strange Happenings At Malfoy Manor

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

"Draco, dearest, where do you think you're going?"

"Out mother."

"Where?"

"Out!"

His mother appeared in front of him as he crushed his anger beneath the solid hard heel of his neutral mask. 

"You know your father told you that he didn't want you to leave the house. He didn't say it just to spite you."

"I've been stuck in here for the past fortnight _mother_. I need some fresh air."

"There, there, Draco. If you need fresh air you can open the windows," Mrs Malfoy smiled benignly, gathering Draco in a hug before he complained about her rather lame joke making him go beat red.

Honestly! He was sixteen! The woman had no right to do this to him. He could just imagine how Potter and his dream team would laugh if they knew about this.

"Mother!" he spluttered as he shrugged his mother off, but not before he'd given her a quick peck on the cheek.

"You try to be so grown up Draco but you're still my little dragon." He just managed to stop himself from flushing. Narcissa, seeing how her boy was embarrassed, smiled in the way only a mother could. "Alright little dragon, you can stomp off now. Don't let me catch you going out of the manor through the window like last time or you _will_ be grounded!"

Draco stormed off, huffing and puffing, mumbling something along the lines of "…that woman…"

"Oh and Draco-"

"What?!"

"I think it does smell a little stuffy in here. Can you please open all the windows?"

Draco gasped. "_All_ the windows?"

"Yes. All twelve hundred of them, and you might want to open the ones in the attics as well." But now Mrs Malfoy's voice was coming up much higher above Draco.

"We have house elves mother," Draco said cautiously, "surely they-"

"Draco I asked you to do it," Mrs Malfoy cut in appearing right behind him with a frown on her face. "I thought I made that clear?"

"Yes but why-"

"Because I haven't punished you for that window incident now that I remember. The rules were placed strictly before you but you chose to disregard them. You have to face the consequences."

"If father knew about this-"

"Then he would agree."

"Fine." Draco strode up the stairs three at a time with his long legs. He could open all the windows without anyone's help. What he couldn't understand is why his mother was punishing him with something so…ruthless. It would probably be evening by the time he finished.

Draco flexed his arm muscles for the task at hand. The only punishment that his mother had set him before that could compare to the hideousness of this one was he time she forced him to give up his wand for a whole day to her.

Draco shuddered at the memory of doing things the muggle way. How they got by he'd never know, or at least he hoped.

He really wasn't a stuck up spoilt rich boy like everyone thought he was. His mother was too against that to allow it to happen to him. But no one knew, not even Goyle and Crabbe, those pathetic goons he had to bore himself with at Hogwarts. Everyone thought they didn't need to even get to know him to label him bad, bad and terribly worse. Potter thought he could read him like a book even with his neutral mask on. 

How little he knew, how little indeed.

********

As sunset approached, Draco reached his last window. Draco leaned on the windowsill and drank in the dusk air hungrily. The sun played gently on the boy's winded face. His hair poked up in resemblance of Potter's hair, all unruly. But Draco couldn't be bothered at the moment. He needed to for fill his oxygen debt (1). 

He put his forehead down on the sill calming down his rampaging heart. He'd run the last flight of stairs so that he could be done before night set in. His stomach grumbled in protest of him walking even one more step. He was also mildly angry due to the fact that all the windows had managed to shut themselves as soon as he turned his back on them. He had fought with one of the windows to keep it from closing but his mother had appeared and told him testily that the windows were only doing what she had ordered them to do. Shut themselves as soon as he opened them. He had fumed at his mother who had only laughed.

Abruptly the fine hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. He felt the sense of someone next to him but as he lifted his weary head in haste, the something was gone. 

But on he table next to the window a book was propped on his mother's faded blue vase in which were fresh stalks of wheat (2). He held the cover of the leather bound book. 

"Balto." He whispered softly to himself. The letters were picked on the black leather in fine silver. Underneath it was the image of a wolf with the faint outline of mountains behind it. The wolf's face was the clearest part of the image. Its eyes twinkled faintly as the dying light from the sun hit the surface of the book. Draco opened the book to its first page. (3)

_To my darling little daughter Sage, _

_With all the love and happiness a father can give to his child. If the northern star could make a ship go faster be sure I would be there with you now. Know this little one, a story is worth it's words in weight. And a word can be worth a lot. This is a book I found in the possession of Captain Cumbersmith who was happy enough to trade me the book for a chain of clams which he will most undoubtedly eat for supper. As you know I am currently in this new place called New South Wales with your aunt Emerald and uncle Odilon. As soon as they have settled in this new place, I will come back to you, my dearest daughter. _

_Love forever or as long as the ships sail south;_

_Articulus Malfoy_

_21/04/1793_

"Who? Articulus Malfoy? What?" Draco puzzled over this. He'd never heard of an Articulus Malfoy before. Or ever seen a portrait of him in their gallery. But of course, only the Malfoys who lived in the manor for a long period of time had their portrait on the wall. And where was New South Wales? He wasn't a complete dunderhead, he knew where Wales was, but had never heard of a New South Wales. He made a note to ask one of the older house elves.

Draco flipped through the book; the smell of salt, the sea and sand invaded his nostrils. The immobile pictures in the book had been coloured by magic, he knew, because they changed their shade as he turned the book one way and then the other. But the pictures, beautifully hand drawn, didn't move at all. The writing in the book was in placid but handsome cursive. The fine black lines emitted a show of strength, beauty and pride. There were no mistakes on the yellowing paper. Suddenly he heard a shuffling down the corridor. He quickly hid the book in one of the various secret compartments in his long billowing black robes.

"Master Draco, Mistress Malfoy wishes your presence in the gable study if you have finished your chores."

"Build me a portal if you will Grubbylocks," Draco asked the house elf while the last window snapped itself shut. "I am far too tired to walk."

"Yes master." And with that the green house-elf Grubbylocks turned a pleasant shade of lavender and held out her hand.

He accepted the hand and found himself, along with Grubbylocks, in the gable study. 

Narcissa tweaked her nose at Draco. 

"Why you smell awful and the dust on your robes is dreadful."

"Are you going to ask me why?" He questioned sarcastically.

"But as you have hardly eaten anything today, you can eat here now and wash later. This room is always grubby. You'll fit just right in." She spoke with displeasure.

She strode off in a huff with Grubbylocks in tow shutting the door behind them. 

He sat down at the marble table with its legs and chairs shaped like the sea in its many forms. The surface of the table was a transparent bluish colour that tossed and turned just under the surface like the sea. On the gable wall was the only window in the room, it had coloured panes depicting a ship. The room, and everything still in it, belonged to an old member of the family who had but a spell on the room so that if anything were to be removed from it, it would appear where it had been only a day later.

He wondered if Articulus Malfoy was the one who had enchanted this room.

Draco took off his outer robes that were immensely dusty and cleaned his face and hands with a simple spell. The house-elves, as always, had prepared something splendid. But he spied something he loved on the side of the piping hot plates. Two muggle sweets made of honey and nuts. But no one else knew that it was first made by muggles.

He greedily gobbled up one of them as he sat on the edge of the table, looking around. 

There was a large bed, where there should have been wood there was cream marble. The sheets were mild blue and the draping was of white and blue-green sheer material. A golden many-pointed star hung from the ceiling above the bed. Small stars, clouds, ships, centaurs, dragons and bulls were painted in fine detail in silver paint on the midnight blue panels that joined the ceiling and the walls. 

A tall marble bookshelf stood next to the bed with glass doors. Inside were piled many books and model ships and animals. But the bookshelf was locked when Draco tried the door. On the other wall stood a work desk with a smaller bookshelf on top. This bookshelf was open to the air and contained many books of many languages.

On the desk itself a seagull (4) quill and inkbottle was poised, ready whenever it was needed. 

Next to the desk, nearest the door, stood a clock with three hands. The longest, Lucius Malfoy, pointed at work. The second longest, Narcissa Malfoy, pointed at home as did the smallest, Draco Malfoy. The clock grew a new hand every time there was a new member of the family and lost one when there was a death.

And on the back of the white door there was a portrait of a sleeping man. He had long black hair to the nape of his neck, tied back from his face with a green tie. His long face was creamy pale with dark etched eyebrows like the curves of clouds. Their ends tilted ever so slightly at their tips. His eyelashes were shafts down his face shutting the world away into the recess of memory. His long nose pointed a little at the tip and a smile twitched on his rosy lips.

He reminded Draco of someone, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Draco?" Mrs Malfoy peered through the door. Draco didn't answer, as he was still lost in thought. "You haven't touched your food."

Narcissa followed Draco's gaze and saw the picture on the door. She smiled and came into the room, ruffling Draco's hair as she sat on a chair facing him.

"Stop that mum! We have to lay down rules that clearly state that you cannot touch me in any affectionate way unless I tell you you can. I'm sixteen and do not need that type of attention."

Draco dropped into his seat from the edge of the table and started eating his cold meal. 

"I see that portrait caught your attention."

Draco looked up enquiringly at her with his mouth full.

Narcissa laughed at this and embellished. "That is a portrait that one of the earlier Malfoys had drawn up. Actually, this is her room..."

"Who is the man?"

"No one knows that's what your father says. He was probably the woman's lover, maybe it was a case of forbidden love…" Mrs Malfoy had a dreamy look in her eyes.

"Mother, you have been reading too many of Warren Celestial's books." He snickered.

His mother gave his a glare and pinched him in the arm.

"What was the woman's name mother?"

"Hmm…oh yes, I remember now. It was Sage. Sage Malfoy who was the great-grandchild of the first Malfoy family who built and lived in this manor."

Draco pondered. 

"How many ancestors did I have that had the name Sage?"

Mrs Malfoy gave him a surprised stare.

"You know better than that Draco. Everyone in the family has an original name. O as not to do the thing you are doing right now. Confusing yourself."

Draco coloured a very resplendent red.

"Draco. Have you been studying those texts that you were meant to?"

"Ummm…ah…sort of mother."

"You haven't, have you?" Narcissa frowned with displeasure.

"It's so boring," Draco pleaded, "I've tried a few times in the library but I fall asleep!"

"Well then don't read in the library but somewhere where you can stay awake."

"Humph…"

"I'll have to test you from now on do you realise?"

"Yes mother." 

********

As daylight snuck into Draco's room through the curtains that he had forgotten to close, it met up with a strange scene. There was an adolescent boy sound asleep with his mouth open slightly, a black leather bound book about a half-dog half-wolf resting on the unfathomable green quilt that lay on the boy.

Narcissa smiled. She adored her boy, faults and all. She closed the curtains, stopping the shy sunlight from peeking into her little dragon's lair. And then she left.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

**Author's Note:** So, how was that? Did you like it or was it a push over? There's only one way to let me know. REVIEW! I know that was a bit sappy and put the whole context of Draco the bad boy of Hogwarts into certain oblivion. I just thought there must have been a nice side to Draco but admit I may have over done it. And all the lovey-dovey stuff is because of the strong condition present between Narcissa and Draco. They both love each other as mother and child. I'll make sure not to romanticise him so much later on. I was sort of conveying the message that Draco is really very deep thinker and very observing. In the earlier chapters I've conveyed Dumbledore as an old man who is becoming more and more forgetful and sort of annoying and shallow. I've always had a little dislike for Dumbledore who seems to know everything and know what to do all the time. 

All constructive criticisms or (for a change) praise (yeay) is appreciated as well as mistakes that you may have found. This has been spell checked so should be okay. Suggestions are also welcomed.

Thanks to anyone who did review. Your thoughts have been read and taken into account.


End file.
